


To Tell the Truth

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Coded Talk, Humor, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-23
Updated: 2009-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Lombard is taken prisoner by the Toyman.  It's up to him to save the day!  Especially since his cellmates are so totally useless...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Tell the Truth

Steve Lombard rattled the barred door of his cell and groaned.  The Toyman had grabbed a bunch of hostages from the _Daily Planet_ \--it had been pretty chaotic, and although he hated to admit it, Steve was probably going to have nightmares about teddy bears for a while after this. 

Teddy bears armed with razor slinkies. 

But when the explosions and screaming had died down, Steve had found himself hustled into an underground cell with two other people.

Thus the groaning.  Because of all the people to get locked into a cell with!  Old Man White was a tough bastard, the Lane chick could probably hold her own in a fight--hell, even the Olsen kid could probably follow Lombard's lead.  But these two!--

"Gosh, this looks pretty bad," muttered Clark Kent.  He was standing near the bars of their cell, his head tilted as if listening for something, although there was nothing to hear but the occasional tromping sound of tin soldier guards going by.  As usual, he was slouched in his shoddy clothing, a massive sad sack mountain of a man.  He always made Steve want to shake him and tell him to stand up straight, dammit.

On the other side of the cell, Bruce Wayne dusted at his expensive suit, frowning when he found a tear in the linen.  "Oh dear," he murmured.  "And I just bought this yesterday."  His expression was sulky, bordering on a pout.  "I hope the _Planet_ is ready to reimburse me," he said to no one in particular.

"As of yesterday, you _own_ the _Planet,"_ Steve growled at him.  "And it's not our fault the Toyman happened to attack just as you were visiting your newest acquisition!"  Trapped in a cell with the two most useless men in the universe--Steve couldn't believe his bad luck.

Wayne came a little closer to the two of them.  His gait was dangerously close to "mincing," and Steve glared at him.  He had some severe doubts about Wayne's sexuality.  Steve rattled the bars of the door again, then began to pace restlessly.  A man of action--a man like Steve Lombard--wouldn't be able to put up with being caged for long, after all.

"Do you hear anything?" Wayne asked Kent.

Kent sighed.  "Oh dear.  Those soldier robots at the end of the hall are probably listening in on everything we say, and--"

"--Will be listening to hear if we're planning an escape," Wayne finished.

"Which we're not."

"Of course not.  That would be stupid.  And we're smarter than those robots."

 _Not by much,_ Steve thought sourly.  As he swung around to return to the other side of the cell, he caught some look going between the other two men, like Kent had started to say something else and then stopped, looking frustrated.  "What?" snarled Steve.  "There something you don't feel comfortable saying in front of me?"

Kent bit his lip, but Wayne suddenly smiled.  "Not at all, Mr. Lombard.  I've always admired your prowess on the gridiron.  In fact, I'd say there are few men in the world I look up to as much as yourself."

Steve felt torn between suspicion and well-warranted pride.  Maybe Wayne wasn't as dumb as he looked after all.  As he thought about his response, he saw Kent start to smile too. 

"I don't understand what you're saying at all, Mr. Wayne," he said.  "Clearly it's necessary to speak the truth here.  The truly admirable thing about Steve is his intelligence, not his strength.  That fine physique houses a first-class mind."

Steve blinked.  "Uh..."  He wasn't used to being complimented on his brains, but he found he didn't mind it.

Wayne was nodding.  "Well, either way, it's _clear_ that we're going to have to rely on Mr. Lombard to get us out of this mess."

Kent looked glum.  "Yeah.  You and I are pretty much useless."

Steve spread his hands placatingly.  "Boys, there's no reason to run yourselves down.  I'm sure you've got strengths too.  Like Kent--he's...well.  He's...big?  Anyway, just follow my lead and we'll be fine."

Kent and Wayne started to share information about the kidnappers and the situation, but it quickly became clear to Steve that they were, in fact, pretty useless.  At least a quarter of everything they were saying was totally wrong, and they kept coming back to how sturdy the door was.  He interrupted a few times to try and steer them to more useful strategy discussion, and they nodded and listened politely, but then went back to their crazy conversation as if they hadn't even heard him.

Steve Lombard was frustrated.  He paced around the cell a while more, shaking the door at each turn just for the pleasure of hearing it rattle, listening to them swap ideas, feeling his frustration get worse and worse.  This was his big chance to be a hero, and he was saddled with these two losers!  Finally, Kent's nervous throat-clearing got on his nerves beyond bearing, and Steve lost his temper.

"Kent, you lummox," he growled.  Kent blinked at him nervously.  "If we could just find out a way to get this door open, even a lump like you could manage to do pretty well against those soldiers!"  Kent gnawed on his lip, and Steve felt a familiar satisfaction;  it always made him feel better to...encourage Kent to realistically assess his own flaws.  "Look at you," he went on.  "You're a pathetic excuse for a man.  Slouched like that, wearing those butt-ugly clothes--you're a mouse!  An embarrassment to the species!"  He opened his mouth to say more, but Wayne cut in smoothly:

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Lombard."  Something about the set of his mouth and eyes looked annoyed;  Steve couldn't blame him.  Kent was enough to annoy anyone.  "Clark Kent is not a man one could possibly admire."  Kent swiveled to blink stupidly at Wayne now, and that shocked look seemed to irk the billionaire more.  "You are slow-witted," he said to Kent.  "And cowardly.  And..."  He paused and then blurted out, "--Unattractive."

Kent seemed to be speechless at the flow of insults.  Lombard resisted the impulse to shake him again.  "Kent, are you really going to let him talk to you that way?"  It was less fun, somehow, when someone else did it.  "Tell him to blow it out his ear!"

The corners of Kent's mouth twitched briefly, but then he scowled at Wayne.  "Well, I think you're stupider than I am," he announced.  "And...and uglier, too."  He took a deep breath as if he'd said something very dangerous, while Wayne's eyes snapped sparks.  "You're so ugly I can hardly bear to look at you.  I can't stand having to talk to you.  I...I hope every day that I never have to see you!"

Wayne took a sudden step closer to Kent, and Steve found himself moving away from the two of them.  There was something very tense and electric in the air between them that Steve found himself unwilling to get between.  "Oh yeah?" he said, his voice silky, almost menacing.

Kent swallowed.  "Yeah."

"Hey, hey."  Steve waved his hands in the air.  "Guys!  Why do you hate each other so much?"  It seemed kind of abrupt, he had to admit.

Wayne's eyes went from narrowed to wide and almost surprised, still staring at Kent.  "That's--I--"  He blinked a couple of times.  "I do.  I hate you, Clark Kent.  I _hate_ you."  He didn't sound angry, oddly enough.  He sounded almost--wondering.

"Really?"  If Wayne sounded surprised, Kent was astonished.

The billionaire's eyes narrowed again.  "Yes.  And I'd like to...to punch you.  Right in the mouth."  He was eyeing Kent's mouth as he said it, and Kent flushed dark red.

"I'd hate that," Kent muttered.

"Like you hate me?"

"Like I--yes, like I hate you."

"I've hated you for a long time," snarled Wayne.  "But I've never been afraid to say it out loud.  Until now."  Which didn't make a lot of sense to Steve, but he was too worried about the way the two of them were glaring at each other to puzzle it out.  He was a little worried one of them was going to throw himself at the other one, the way they were almost panting with rage.

Steve Lombard was feeling very uncomfortable.

"Guys, _please_ ," he implored.  "Let's focus on getting out of here."

Wayne tore his eyes away from Kent with an apparent effort.  "Right," he muttered.  He pointed at Kent.  "Later.  I'm going to punch you.  In the mouth."

"Like _hell_ you are," Kent retorted, an odd smile lighting up his face.  But then he paused and tilted his head as if listening intently to something.  "This would be a terrible time to try to escape anyway," he said.  "I'm betting Toyman isn't planning to make his move anytime soon."  He moved to examine the door, whistling tunelessly under his breath a bit.

The temperature in the cell seemed abruptly to drop a few degrees, and Steve shivered.  "Did it just get really cold in here, or is it just me?"

Wayne shook his head.  "I think it's just your imagination, Mr. Lombard.  I think it's pretty hot in here."

Kent shot him an unreadable look.  "Really?  I'm feeling quite cold, myself," and Steve was startled to see color stain Wayne's cheeks.  In the strangely awkward pause that followed, Steve grabbed the door and rattled it again--and the metal hinges snapped like peanut brittle.  Steve grabbed at the door as it fell, managing to keep it from clanging to the ground, and found himself gaping at it.

"Wow," said Clark Kent admiringly, "Steve, you are so impressive."

"Uh," said Steve, staring at the empty hallway.  Faced with the actual reality of escape, suddenly it didn't seem like such a great idea.  But the other two men were already moving out into the hall, and Steve Lombard wasn't going to be left behind, no way.  He followed them--yes, of course Steve was a leader, but right now it seemed... _prudent_ to take up the rear.

Three toy soldiers, each the size of a linebacker, came around the corner.  "Stop!  Intruders!" they intoned in unison, and lowered their weapons.

Adrenaline surged through Steve, and without thinking he threw himself forward to tackle one of the robots.  " _Steve,"_ he heard Kent gasp, sounding almost annoyed for some reason, and after that things got kind of blurry.  Steve was swinging at the robot, fists clanging on steel, and he'd have been doing better if Kent and Wayne didn't have such a bad tendency to trip him or stumble into him at just the wrong times.  Swords whistled over his head, missing him by inches, and bullets hummed past his ears alarmingly.  Somehow a couple of the robots crashed into each other and collapsed;  the third one was raising its arm to club Steve down--when the arm simply fell off, landing on the floor in a shower of sparks.

The robot keeled over slowly, revealing Clark Kent standing behind it.  "Gee," he said.  "That must have been a defective one."

Steve picked his way over the pile of scrap gingerly, only half-noticing that the arm joints were glowing cherry-red-hot.  "You two are lucky I'm here to keep you guys safe!" he blustered, his heart pounding.

Wayne and Kent nodded in unison, solemnly.  "We certainly are lucky to have you along," Wayne said.  "Which way?" he said tersely to Kent, and Kent pointed down the corridor.

They were off again, Steve trying to keep up with the two surprisingly fast men as they made their way to the Toyman's center of operations.

 **: : :**

Steve Lombard dusted his hands off.  Having literally beaten the stuffing out of a murderous teddy bear was a very good feeling.  No toy-related nightmares for him, no sirree.

The Toyman was yelling and kicking.  Somehow in the fracas he'd ended up tangled in his own slinkies and was now dangling from the ceiling, bobbing slightly.  Steve pointed a stern finger at him.  "People like you never learn, Toyman-- _crime doesn't play."_

Behind him, Clark Kent groaned.  "Please, Steve," he said.  "I can't believe you said that."

"What?  Robin says stuff like that all the time!"

"You," said Bruce Wayne, "are not Robin."

"But we're heroes," Steve announced, flinging his arms out to encompass the defeated villain and the ruins of his plans.  "We'll be famous for this!  I can see the headlines now-- _Football Star Turned Newscaster and his Two Fellow Prisoners Defeat Toyman._   It'll be awesome!"

"Oh dear," said Kent.  "I don't think Mr. Wayne and I did much to help.  It was really all you."

"I'd hate to be in the papers for brawling," Wayne said.  "It would just _ruin_ my image."

Steve had to admit " _Football Star Turned Newscaster Defeats Toyman Single-Handedly"_ did have a better _ring_ to it.  "Well," he said magnanimously as the three of them stepped out through the broken wall into the sunlight, police sirens wailing closer, "I'll be sure to mention you as well."

The sun was blindingly bright;  Steve blinked into it.  Behind him, there was a scraping sound, like loafers shuffling nervously on pavement.  "Mr. Wayne," said Kent.  "What you said earlier.  You don't have to--I mean, I wouldn't--"

"Clark," said Bruce Wayne.  "I hate you.  I'll hate you forever.  Please...tell me you hate me too."  His voice sounded all wrong for the words, though, strange and soft and almost pleading, and Kent drew a long, shaky breath.

"Bruce," he whispered. 

Steve waited for him to finish the sentence, but instead there were more shuffling noises and then silence.  He turned around to figure out what was going on--and his jaw dropped.  The two idiots were _wrestling_ on the ground! And _sissy_ wrestling--they weren't even throwing punches, they were just sort of grabbing and rolling around and pulling hair and--was that _biting_?  It was definitely unsporting, Steve thought, looking away hurriedly.  He started to pick his way over the rubble toward the gathering crowd, leaving behind his former cellmates to work out their hostility on their own.

There was no doubt at all Steve Lombard had been locked in a cell with two of the most useless--and _unmanly_ \--lunatics in the entire world.

  



End file.
